Temptations
by Sheryl Nantus
Summary: Some things are always lurking in the darkness…


Disclaimer: They ain't mine and not likely to be - 'nuff said!  
  
Summary: Some things are always lurking in the darkness…  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Vignette  
  
Archive: Anytime, anywhere - just ask!  
  
Feedback graciously appreciated at xfdragon@zoominternet.net  
  
Temptations (1/1)  
  
By Sheryl Martin/Nantus  
  
They have no idea how hard it is.  
  
Oh, sure - I know no one makes money at the casinos other than the House. Being a runner makes that real clear real fast. And growing up in Vegas just makes it a part of the background; an eternal sweet candy being offered to the kid within us all.   
  
But each time I walk into one I feel it. The tug; the pull… the desire to just drop a bit at the table and I can always walk away; I can always walk away.  
  
Really.  
  
I could get a job easy; I know the pit bosses and they know me, know I'd be good for it. Heck, takes one to catch one and know one - right? Always room for a guy like me. Not at the piano, but always room for me.  
  
But I walk on by each and every time. Mostly. Like an alcoholic trying to avoid the liquor factory.  
  
And it works. Most of the time.  
  
*************  
  
They have no idea how hard it is.  
  
Oh, I know the odds were against me from the start. But we always heard the story about the talent agent who came into the strip club and discovered his next big "thing"; next day she's up on the stage and making more money in a single show than we used to make in a week.   
  
Funny thing was, no one ever knew her name. Or his. Or what show she ended up in.  
  
But we all knew it was true. That's why we kept going.  
  
And every time I get a look at some of the outfits; each time I catch a glimpse of the hottest show on the Strip; any time I glimpse a man checking me out of the corner of his eye - I think about how I could have made it.  
  
Sure, I'm being unrealistic - having a daughter and a good job doesn't mean you can't go outside the box to dream.  
  
And it works - most of the time.  
  
***************  
  
They have no idea how hard it is.  
  
My family freaked when I told them I was going into forensics. More so when I told them I was going to Vegas. I remember my mother asking me what I was trying to prove.  
  
I wanted to prove that I could be as good a cop as anyone. Just not as a cop.  
  
I could have stayed home - gotten a good cushy job in the Department and never have to sweat it out as a rookie; never have to worry about the politics and know each review would be more gushing than the last. Never work the night shift unless I wanted to and have a sweet choice of all the open positions.  
  
But I had to do it the hard way. Tell myself that I was being an individual; making it MY life and not just a carbon copy of someone else's.  
  
And it works for me. Well, most of the time.  
  
***************  
  
They have no idea how hard it is.  
  
Being the new kid on the block all the time. It was like that at school, but not with the students - with my family.   
  
"Why would you want to do that?" and "Why don't you just stay home - everything's cool."  
  
Cool. Last thing you'd think of here.  
  
But it's never cool. Not when you know we're all that stands between justice and the anarchy that lies just around the corner. Losing focus for a second, missing that crucial piece of evidence because my mind was elsewhere - that could send the wrong man to prison. Or send no one at all.  
  
So it's always serious. Everything has to be serious.  
  
But just once, just once… I'd like to cut loose. Be what my parents wanted me to be, be the woman that I know I could be. But I can't take the chance - can't do that. Got to be professional all the time, 24-7.  
  
It works for me. Really. Well, most of the time.  
  
***************  
  
They have no idea how hard it is.  
  
In this job there's no room for friends. Acquaintances, maybe. But not friends. Friends cloud the judgement; change the playing field just by their appearance.   
  
It's not that I'm antisocial.   
  
Not in the least. I have my collegues, other experts in the field who I correspond with regularly. You can never have too many contacts.   
  
But here… here in Vegas things are always on the edge. Catherine's a good friend to me; always has been. She needed me and I was there. And she's a great addition to the department.  
  
And yet… there are others I would call my friends. More than that, possibly. More than I deserve, most certainly.   
  
And that could affect me. Change me; make me… well, not what I was a few years ago.  
  
That scares me.   
  
So I work through and around it, hide it and duck from the opportunities.  
  
I think it's working for me. Most of the time.  
  
Maybe.  
  
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